The Polemarch and the Deb Rokkhi General watched the Sun disappear beyond the horizon and they watched as the last wagon rode into the sunset. They stayed on the battlement of Nondon Kanon and they kept staring towards the west until the dusk obscured everything beyond Chandni. They were both relieved and anxious; relieved that the surviving soldiers had been sent away from harm's way and anxious because of the wrath that awaited them from their kings. Kings, they mused, who were only accustomed to conquests and kings who weren’t just oblivious, but unconcerned about the costs of those conquests. It was Generals like them who had shielded their kings from the dark realities of conquests and battles, their kings had either marched into the conquered lands in their fabulous processions or had witnessed the return of a victorious army. The kings had only seen the soldiers in their glorious best, the kings had never seen the maimed and had rarely heard about the fallen. This time, the kings would meet a defeated army with fatigue and hopelessness etched on each face. It would be considered a sacrilege that the soldiers had returned vanquished rather than dying in quest of victory, it would be considered a sacrilege that the soldiers had failed to cleanse a land that the kings consider gods’ endowment to them. The fury would be unimaginable, but the response was uncertain.
Rajnogor (City of the King) was indeed regal. It’s for nothing that it had been so audaciously christened. Only a handful of cities in this vast and prosperous empire could rival the fame and fortune of this eastern jewel. The bounties of the land and the river nourished the region, the forest provided valuable timber, and the mountain held an inexhaustible supply of granite to build palaces, forts, and other structures. But, it was the great port that was its crown jewel. The waning of the Monsoon would herald the start of the arrival of the merchant ships, hundreds of them, and from many unknown corners of the world. For months, the city would not have a moment to rest; the docks and the warehouses would be bustling with the loading and unloading of goods while the inns and the streets would be filled with the scurrying of frantic traders and tax officials. The silks and the spices, the ivories and the ornaments, the perfumes and the jewels would indulge the elites. But the masses would find many novelties and necessities too. Just the varieties of oils were many; Mustard Oil for cooking, Coconut Oil for healthcare, and Whale Oil for lighting lamps. Then, there would be rice, herbs, salt, and textiles. Only in the early Summer, as the storm clouds and the thundershowers would appear like the frowning elders irate at some raucous youths, would the congregation start to head home.
Rajnogor wasn’t just a great city and a majestic port, it was the citadel of the eastern forces too. From the bank of the Chandni, the soldiers would travel for three days, from dawn to dusk and with little rest in between. On the first day, they would pass through wilderness and uninhabited lands, but on the second day, sparse hamlets and villages would start to appear and they would become larger and more frequent as they travelled westward. The supplies they had bought from the enemy were just enough to sustain them through their travel, and on the evening of the third day, an exhausted army collapsed at the gate of their great fort. A company of horsemen had charged ahead of the main army and had reached Rajnogor well past the evening of the first day. The news they brought had shaken everyone and neither the commander of the fort nor the governor of the city was willing to be the bearer of such terrible tidings. So, the next morning the same company sped further west, to the capital and their kings.
‘What happened?’ the Shetango king calmly asked when the soldiers presented the helmet and the sword of the Polemarch. The soldiers narrated the battle on the plains, the battle for the fort, and the nighttime raid on their camp punctured by the occasional questions from the king or the council. ‘My Merkavas are gone!’ It was more of a musing than a question and the tinge of sorrow was palpable. After a few more questions the soldiers were dismissed. The king sat silently for a while as the council waited in silence. ‘Let’s consult our hosts before deciding anything’ the king said after a while, but the tone suggested that he had already made up his mind. The silence at the court of the Nripoti was unbearable while the man himself was catching his breath after raging for so long. ‘Well?’ the Nripoti rumbled after the exchange of courtesies. The king held the Nripoti in his eyes as he spoke calmly ‘I’m angry too. I too want to rush to that wretched land and lay it to waste. That’s exactly why we are here today, we knew nothing about them while they had prepared for years. Even today, we don’t know how big that land is, how many more soldiers they have, and’ he gave a short pause, ‘what other surprises they can spring.’ All the counsels slightly nodded in agreement. But the Nripoti looked furious, so furious that it took a few moments before he could speak. ‘We will let those wretched vermins get away?’ his rasping voice sent a chill down the seasoned Generals and counsels. The king gave a rueful smile, ‘Haven’t that king of theirs said that they aren’t going anywhere? You can get them next year, or the year after.’ The agreement from the audience was now more pronounced. The Nripoti had a weird gleam in his eyes. ‘You say you, aren’t you going to ride with us?’ The king sighed heavily, suddenly, he looked tired. ‘You are at your palace, in your land; I haven’t been in my land for ten years. It’s time I return home, but I want to leave in friendship with you.’
The court drowned in silence for a while. Many were startled when the shrill voice of the Nripoti broke the silence abruptly, ‘I will not pay a dime to those scumbags’. Now, there was an uneasy silence. ‘Then, we will be at war with them’ a strong voice spoke. Till then, the crown-prince had remained inconspicuous at the fringes of the court. He got up, walked to the Nripoti, and knelt before him. ‘The fear of raiders and pirates will drive many away from here. And the tales of fear will spread with them. No ship will come without paying tributes to the enemy and it will make trading with us less profitable. Slowly, Rajnogor will become destitute.’ He took a short break. ‘But Rajnogor can replenish the ransom amount in just three years.’ The agreement among the council was audible, but the Nripoti looked violently indignant. Now the prince bowed to the ground, ‘My lord, father, I beg you.’ The court fell into stunned silence. One could see that the Nripoti was conflicted, he understood the reasoning but his pride stood resolute. Finally, he snorted, indignantly and loudly. ‘You chose profit before glory, it will be on you.’ As he stood up and stormed out of the court, he almost stepped on his still-bowing son. The moment the Nripoti got out of the court, his counsels and Generals gathered around the prince and knelt. As they got up and moved away from him, the king spoke ‘Perhaps, no one really understands what great service you have just rendered to your empire’, he gave the prince a courteous bow.
It was three days since the army had left. Although they knew it would be at least a week before they would receive any message, the Polemarch and the Deb Rokkhi General had made it a habit of standing on the battlement till the evening. That day, as the surrounding landscape dissolved into the gathering darkness, they noticed a rider, a fleeting shadow in the evening, galloping from the west. That night, they had news. The advance party was riding towards the capital and the main army, which was a day’s journey from Rajnogor, was likely to have reached there by now. Almost every day, a messenger would arrive from the west, but the news was scarce. Then one day, late into the evening, a messenger arrived with the news that a royal cavalcade had left Rajnogor that morning. The Polemarch and the Deb Rokkhi General felt somewhat relieved that their kings hadn’t sent an army, but they felt uneasy pondering about what message the emissaries were bringing. ‘What will happen, will happen. Worrying will not change anything.’ The Polemarch and the Deb Rokkhi General were startled by the voice. It was mid-morning and they were standing on the battlement, straining their eyes towards the west as if that would have made them see things beyond their sight. Hasi returned their courteous bows as she headed towards the edge of the battlement, but she barely glanced towards the west, instead, she thoroughly surveyed the remains of the enemy camp and the battlefield on the other side of Chandni.
The soldiers had salvaged whatever they could before leaving for Rajnogor. Most of the tents remained standing as it wasn’t worth the effort to take those down and carried away. What was only days ago a glorious and bustling camp of many thousands looked like a haunted ground with rows of empty tents and patches of charred ground. On the east side of Chandni, two vast mounds were conspicuous in the endless plain. One had many pennants fluttering in the gentle breeze; the red sun on the field of green, the silver crescent on a field of blue, the green leaf on the field of white, and the golden flame on a field of red. The other mound didn’t have any pennants, it was pockmarked with swords, shields, spears, and helmets of the fallen enemies. Hasi, along with Suborna, and Labonno, had reached Nondon Kanon the previous day. The Generals had seen them arrive and Orco had told them who they were, but they hadn’t met Hasi or the other ladies till now. ‘Have you ever thought about what if you hadn’t come?’ Hasi asked, her eyes and her mind seemed to have drifted far away. The Generals remained silent, and then they helplessly looked at each other as Hasi turned her eyes on them. ‘My lady, we are soldiers, battles are all we know’ the Deb Rokkhi General mumbled awkwardly. Hasi smiled, it was the indulging smile of a mother whose kid had said something foolish. ‘Nonsense, even a predator doesn’t pounce on its prey if it’s not hungry.’
A couple of days had passed since that morning. In the dimming light of the evening, the Polemarch and the General watched the royal cavalcade arrive at their now abandoned camp. The battlement was crowded with soldiers that day. Besides the Generals stood the Second Prince, Chotoo, the General of Omoraboti, Orco, and the commanders of the Bhumi Sontan. ‘Our king has come’ the Polemarch told Orco, ‘Although I couldn’t recognize him from this afar, I could recognize his royal banner.’ ‘That beautiful four-horse carriage carries the lord’s emissary, I don’t know who that might be’ added the Deb Rokkhi General. That night the Generals were invited to the king’s council. ‘Tomorrow morning, they will send a messenger seeking parley with you’ the Polemarch informed the king. ‘They would prefer meeting on the open ground that has a semblance of neutrality’ the Deb Rokkhi General had added. The king nodded agreeably, then he asked how he could be hospitable to his enemies. Commanders and foremen were instructed to make proper arrangements for the parley as the court retired for the night.
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